To Kate
by surrendersomething
Summary: Castle/Beckett. The first time Alexis finds them, she knows she wasn't supposed to find them at all.
1. Chapter 1

**To Kate**

**Summary: **The first time Alexis finds them, she knows she wasn't supposed to find them at all.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, clearly. Otherwise I would've watched everything.

**A/N: **This is my first foray into the world of Castle – a disclaimer right at the start, to date I've only watched season one and the first episode of season two. I'm a little late to the game, but absolutely 100% in love with the show. Any inaccuracies, anything that doesn't make sense, anything that I seem to have missed – it's probably because I don't know about it yet. That said, I just couldn't resist writing about these characters who have well and truly worked their way into my brain. This little series will consist of four parts. There will be a second chapter to this story, and then two accompanying standalone stories. Suggestions, comments, criticism, advice are all welcomed, especially as I'm so new to the show.

* * *

><p><strong>To Kate<strong>

The first time Alexis finds them, she knows she wasn't supposed to find them at all. Martha has taken her to the theatre and by the time she goads her grandmother away from the after party, it's well after midnight. Her father is a night owl though, so when they get home Martha sends her up to see if he's still awake.

He isn't.

Nor is he alone.

Lit by a thin sliver of moonlight at his side, lies Kate Beckett. Fast asleep, the detective is lying on her stomach with her head inclined slightly to the right, towards Alexis's father. Her hair falls in a sleek curtain across her face, and the sheets that cover her have fallen down beneath her shoulder blades and Alexis can see the thin straps of her tank top. She can also see how the detective's right arm is slung casually over her father's stomach where he sleeps peacefully next to her.

It's a strangely intimate picture. More so than all of the things she knows she _could _have walked in on, over the years. Despite her fifteen years, led as innocently as one can with Richard Castle as a father, she can also tell that it's not the first time this particular picture has occurred. There's a comfortable intimacy exuding from the formerly unlikely colleagues that Alexis can't quite place, but that she also knows is much more like something resembling love than tolerance.

Alexis knows better than anyone that her father has a side far softer than he lets most people see, and that it looks like Kate Beckett is no longer most people. She suspects the detective might have her own soft side too, if what she is seeing is anything to go by.

With that thought she quietly closes the door to and makes her way back downstairs. When Martha asks her if he was still awake, she tells her no. She doesn't tell her that he wasn't alone.

That's not her story to tell.

* * *

><p>The second time Alexis finds them, they're laughing. She doesn't think she's ever really heard Kate Beckett laugh in the times she's met her, other than the time with the red dress and the eggs. Martha is away for the week, <em>somewhere with sun darling<em>, and Alexis has finals fast approaching. Venturing out of her room for a soda, she finds her father and the detective in her way.

Wrestling a bottle of beer out of her father's hand, Kate Beckett has one hip leant casually against the fridge, and Alexis halts on the stairs as she watches her father lean one arm against the fridge, easily invading her personal space as his other hand falls to her waist.

He says something Alexis can't quite hear and after a second's pause, she watches Kate hit him even as her laughter rings out again.

Alexis has seen them talking before, and she knows that she's seen them flirting before, but in the scene before her there's an easy kind of familiarity that she thinks can only come from the type of relationship she suspects she's watching develop before her.

The type of relationship that she finds herself _happy_ to watch develop before her.

As Alexis finishes her descent down the stairs it's the detective who sees her first, and she smiles an almost shy greeting as she pushes away the hand that rests on her hip. At the change in position her father turns, his grin widening as he spots Alexis. Breaking away from Kate, he traps her in a playful headlock before hugging her tightly, lifting her feet off the floor as the detective looks on, a warm smile crossing her lips that Alexis suspects she's unaware of.

Neither of the adults look willing to confess to much, and when Alexis asks what they're doing they cobble together an answer about case files and Nikki Heat that doesn't really make sense, when she looks back.

Still, she leaves them to it to return to her revision with a smile and a wave of her soda can. As she walks up the stairs she hears Kate chide him with a soft, laughing exclamation of his surname, and she doesn't have to turn around to know that her father has been inappropriate. Again.

Not for the first time, she feels like the roles are reversed and she's more like the parent in their strangely dysfunctional relationship.

Only this time? The teenagers are in the kitchen, slowly falling in love.

* * *

><p>The third and fourth times Alexis finds them are similar to the second. Both involve laughter, alcohol and a spark that Alexis doubts anyone could deny. Yet still, she hasn't heard from their own mouths that they're anything more than friends. The fifth time she finds them, while they're not really <em>together<em> in the strictest sense of the word, tells her more than any of the previous four times.

She's been shopping with some friends one Saturday, and when she lets herself into the apartment it's filled with an eerie quiet she wasn't expecting. She knows there's a big baseball game on, and she's used to the sound roaring from his expensive speakers to greet her.

From what little she's gathered from his unexpectedly frequent phone calls that morning, the latest case he has been shadowing is horrific. Still, her father is a seasoned crime writer and lover of the macabre, and even though he might hug her a little tighter than usual after a bad day, even the worst cases haven't seemed to get him down too much so she has been secretly looking forward to joining him for the second half of the game she doesn't really understand, no matter how many times he patiently explains the rules to her.

Instead, she finds her father sprawled on the sofa, and she can read the tension in his body even though he's face down and dead to the world. When she turns, she finds Kate Beckett perched on a stool in her kitchen, nursing a mug of coffee and looking like she's got the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Somehow, she's not surprised.

Alexis knows this wasn't the way they'd been planning for her to find out, and even if she hadn't she finds it written all over the detective's face. It's also clear to Alexis from the look in the older woman's eyes as she watches over him from her carefully selected position, that it's a relationship they will no longer be able to deny. When she eventually asks the confident, self-assured detective who she respects more than she lets on if she's okay, Alexis doesn't quite know how to react when Kate rubs a hand roughly across her eyes and doesn't respond.

_I only meant to drop him off and make sure he went to bed_, she finally tells Alexis quietly. _We worked all night, and he took the case... horribly. I couldn't bring myself to leave him like that, so I...stayed._

_This wasn't how we wanted you to find out, _she adds when Alexis tells her not to go, and it's the detective's turn to not look surprised when Alexis tells her that she already knew. _ You're a smart girl,_ she says eventually, and Alexis feels proud that she's helped put a sliver of a smile on the detective's face when she eventually continues and offers a dryly phrased_ sometimes it makes me wonder whether he really is your father_.

Pouring herself a glass of juice, she takes a seat next to her father's new girlfriend and as they silently keep watch over her father, she finds herself really starting to like the new woman in his life.

For the first time.

* * *

><p>The sixth time Alexis finds them they're very much together, and openly so. It's also the first time she sees them kiss. It's like a weight has been lifted off her father's shoulders now that he doesn't have to reveal his relationship to his only daughter, and while she realises that makes her sound conceited, she also knows it's true.<p>

The fact that he was so worried about it speaks volumes to her.

They're in the kitchen when Alexis gets home one evening, and the detective is sitting on the counter next to the stove, her gentle laughter ringing through the loft as her father shows off his cooking skills. Which _are_ extraordinary, Alexis acknowledges with a smile, so she can't really blame him.

They're both dressed casually and Kate is barefoot as she sits on the counter, but she holds a half empty wineglass in her hand and the table boasts two carefully set places, so Alexis knows that it's a date. She also knows that her father _never_ dates at home. Then again, she can't actually remember seeing him date someone who wasn't out for the fame and fortune, and she's also not naive enough to know that the detective won't be entirely comfortable with the media attention.

The combination of those facts makes the fact that her father never dates at home even more significant though. It means that Kate Beckett is important enough to break his rules for.

That said, as she watches Kate lean over to try and steal a taste of whatever her father's cooking, Alexis realises again that there's far more to the detective than the cool, aloof persona she exuded at first. She bites back a smile as they fight a little, her father eventually victorious as he dips a spoon into the sauce he's making and holds it to the detective's lips.

Kate leans forward to taste it with laughter in her eyes, and Alexis isn't surprised at the groan of appreciation she lets out. Her father's pasta sauce _is_ to die for. What she is surprised at is the reaction it evokes in her father, as he leans forward to kiss her.

She doesn't have a lot of experience of being kissed and it's slightly disturbing that it's her dad she's watching, but as she watches Kate's hand come up to tangle in her father's hair Alexis thinks she's starting to realise what she's missing out on. What her teenage relationships have yet to materialise into.

_The sauce is good_, she hears Kate murmur eventually, laughing softly as she accepts one more kiss.

_You taste better,_ her father responds smoothly, and at this point Alexis interrupts and tells him to tone down the cheese, before she starts to hear things she really doesn't need to be hearing.

She might have already decided that she's behind this relationship, but that doesn't mean that there isn't a line.

They both look up at her comment, and the confident detective blushes crimson within seconds. Alexis has already realised that she's incredibly private, so she suspects that she's probably still getting used to her father's openly affectionate side when it's just the two of them, let alone with company present.

_Do you want to join us? _Kate asks softly, her cheeks still flushed. Her words are warm and sincere, but she seems unaware of the significance of the simple question to Alexis. _I think your father's overestimated my appetite,_ she adds with a laugh_. _

_Get used to it,_ Alexis tells her with another smile, dodging her father's attempted ambush easily as she crosses the kitchen and removes a bottle of water from the fridge. She has already eaten and she tells them that, but what she doesn't tell them is that it's the offer itself that has well and truly cemented Kate in her good books, even though she was probably there already.

None of his dates have ever cared enough to invite his teenage daughter to join them for dinner, let alone this early in a relationship, yet his detective has just done exactly that without even thinking.

She watches her dad press a kiss against Kate's hair as she hops down off the counter, and the look on his face means Alexis suspects she won't have to clue either of them in on her revelation because she thinks he's had one of his own. And as she watches Kate snake both arms around his stomach as he murmurs something that only the detective can hear, she's struck by another realisation.

She's watching the start of something _really_ good.

* * *

><p>The seventh time Alexis sees them together is also the first time Richard Castle sees Kate Beckett interacting with his daughter.<p>

Answering the door one evening, Alexis tells Kate (who she's somehow started to stop referring to as _the detective_ in her head) that her father is writing, and they share a laugh when she adds that Kate can interrupt, but it's at her own risk. Despite the fact that she is by all accounts one of the best and most fearless detectives out there, Alexis finds herself liking her even more when it seems that the thought of interrupting her father when he's writing scares her just as much as the next person.

Telling her she's more than welcome to stay, Alexis goes to turn back to her secret, guilty pleasure, the marathon of trashy teenage drama which is filling her Friday night, but is halted in her tracks by Kate's equally guilt-ridden confession.

_I love this show,_ she tells Alexis sheepishly.

Alexis finds herself turning and grinning, and before she knows it they're both seated in front of the TV, engrossed. She finds Kate Beckett, secret trashy TV watcher a million times more accessible than the slightly intimidating detective she's experienced before, and when the next commercial break starts with Kate asking how school is going and how things are with her boyfriend Alexis finds herself responding easily, the hesitance in the grown woman's questions making her realise that Kate is just as nervous as she is. That she wants them to get on just as much as Alexis does.

It also makes her realise that she's _really_ starting to like her.

By the time they're well into the third hour of the marathon they've shared a bowl of popcorn, found out a few essential details about one another and are laughing at a particularly funny scene when her father finally emerges from his office, halting mid-stretch as he takes in the sight before him. Alexis shares a conspiratorial glance with Kate that makes her feel slightly warmer inside, and can't stop a grin crossing her face as her father leans over the back of the sofa, ruffling her hair as his arm snakes around his girlfriend's shoulders.

_My two favourite ladies_, he announces with a grin, pressing a kiss to her forehead before leaning over to kiss Kate. Alexis doesn't have to give a second thought to her answer when he goes on to ask _Is there room for me in here?_, and her lovingly delivered _No!_ coincides perfectly with Kate's.

For his part, she notices that her father can't hide the happiness in his eyes, even as he slumps into the armchair opposite them, mission defeated.

She also knows that it's not lost on any of them that their collective relationship just turned a massive corner.

* * *

><p>The eighth time Alexis sees them is the time the penny finally drops for Martha. Alexis is equal parts amused and surprised they've managed to keep it from her for so long, and nothing but amused that they 'choose' to reveal it to her in such spectacular style.<p>

She's sitting in the kitchen enjoying a late supper and a typically dramatic dinner table conversation with her grandmother when her father and Kate practically stumble through the front door, decidedly less than sober. Alexis knows they have been out celebrating Kevin Ryan's birthday, and she has always suspected that when the detectives let their hair down for more than the ever more regular games of poker the results could be entertaining.

Nevertheless, she hasn't prepared herself for the true hilarity of the look on her grandmother's face when the couple come to a clumsy halt in the kitchen, Kate's giggled _oops!_ being the only noise to break the silence as she grips hold of her lover's arm to steady herself. They start to laugh, a sure sign of the amount of alcohol they've consumed, and Alexis watches as her father practically throws his arms round his girlfriend. His jacket is draped around her shoulders, but she's wearing a shimmering emerald green dress that clings to every curve and heels that put her practically at her dad's height, and Alexis notices that she makes no effort to pull away from his embrace, instead leaning against him contentedly as she giggles.

Their laughter is infectious, and Alexis finds herself laughing along with them as they all notice her grandmother's horrified expression. _How could I have _missed_ this? _Martha cries eventually, causing the three of them to laugh even harder.

Kate is the first to pull herself together. _I'm sorry,_ she offers as her giggles subside. Alexis finds that she is suddenly the object of her father's drunken affections, trapped in a bear hug and only laughing harder as Kate, left to her own devices, offers a calm _Hello, Martha, nice to see you_, as if she hasn't touched a drop of alcohol all evening.

_The fine detective simply cannot handle her cocktails, _her dad announces gleefully, dropping his arms from around Alexis to pin his girlfriend's arms to her side as Kate darts at him with only slightly dampened reflexes.

They are too inebriated to answer her grandmother's questions with anything other than riddles and laughter, and as they retreat to the living room with a bottle of liquor and hands wandering to places that she _really_ doesn't need to see, Alexis finds herself the sole subject of Martha's interrogation and thinks that Kate would actually be rather impressed by her tactics.

She avoids the questions about how she found out because she's already decided that's not her story to tell, and dodges the questions of when they got together because that's their secret.

And honestly, she doesn't know.

* * *

><p>The ninth time Alexis finds them, she's coming home from a date. Well within her curfew, because no matter how much they joke about it she wouldn't dream of doing anything else. She says goodbye before opening the door, because she's experienced firsthand the fact that her father <em>will<em> be waiting up for her.

Still, she finds herself unable to quite wipe the smile from her face as she closes the door behind her, and she allows herself to lean against it for just a second. Opening her eyes, she finds herself grinning a little wider at the sight that greets her, partly because it is, for want of another word, adorable.

Mainly though, because she knows it also means that she's about to get away scot free.

Richard Castle, her confident, self-assured father, is sprawled diagonally across a corner of the couch. His laptop – the one he uses for writing – rests at his feet, and she can see the small orange light that flashes repeatedly and tells her it hasn't been used for a while. Tucked into his side, dark curtain of hair falling casually over her face, rests Kate Beckett, decidedly detective no more. She has one leg hooked comfortably across his lap, and Alexis can see her father's fingers anchored against her knee. Both have their eyes closed, and she can't quite tell if they're awake or not.

Eventually her father stirs, with the second sense she knows he always has when she's concerned. The excited grin that instantly crosses his face confirms to her that he probably wasn't asleep, but his movements simultaneously disturb the woman at his side who, judging by the way she jolts alert, definitely _was_ sleeping. Alexis watches as her father's attention is drawn instantly away from the questions forming on his lips, his fingers rising to touch Kate's cheek lightly as she wakes. Kate is fairly quick to offer her a sleepy smile and a greeting once she takes in her surroundings, and Alexis shares a look of understanding with her as they both humour her father in his efforts to interrogate his daughter.

She leaves them before the questions can progress too far with a suggestion that they might want to try sleeping somewhere a little more comfortable she knows her father won't be able to counter. She finds herself smiling all the way up the stairs, and while she knows it's because her date really did go well, she knows she's also smiling because it makes her happy to see her dad like this.

Still, she finds herself coming back to the same point again and again as she climbs into bed, and it's possibly the most telling point of the evening. There's something new, something different every time she sees them together. Something a little more personal. Tonight in particular, that means it's getting serious.

Because her father doesn't write in front of anyone.

Period.

* * *

><p>The tenth time Alexis sees them is the first time she really sees the darker side to this crime fighting world that her father has become so attached to.<p>

She hears them come home, and when she glances at her clock it's considerably earlier than she's accustomed to. It's almost as if something in the atmosphere changes in the entire apartment, and she finds herself drawn downstairs with a funny feeling that something's wrong.

She can't help the gasp that slips from her lips when she sees them.

Kate sits on a stool in the kitchen, quietly protesting that she's fine even though her voice is shaking as she does so. It's clear to Alexis that she isn't, as the nasty looking cut on her face stands out an angry red against her otherwise porcelain skin. There's blood on Kate's shirt, and on her father's.

For his part, her father stands over Kate anxiously, fingers tipping her face into the light so he can study her injuries. Alexis knows he can be surprisingly gentle when he needs to be. Years of being both mom and dad have taught him that, and he's no stranger to dealing with injuries.

She can see that he's upset, though. She saw a similar look in his eyes every time she fell over as a child.

_Two inches, Kate. _He repeats his agitated statement more than once, and if Alexis couldn't read the mix of terror and sheer affection in his voice, she could almost mistake his tone for anger.

_I know, Rick,_ comes Kate's shaky response, and Alexis wonders for a second why she finds it strange to hear Kate speak her father's first name before she spots the way that she has his arm in a death grip and forgets all about it. She can read fear a mile off, and it's radiating off them both.

_Two inches, and it would've been your _eye, _Kate_.

Alexis knows her father has said too much at precisely the same time that he does, as Kate drops her gaze to the floor and a shudder rips through her body. It's at this point that Alexis suspects the detective is in more pain than she's letting on, confirmed by the fact that she watches her father wipe what Alexis can only presume to be tears from Kate's cheeks. She's about to turn on her heel and leave them to their private moment when her father looks up and spots her. He tips his head slightly, telling her it's okay to come in.

Kate looks up too when she walks in, alerted to her presence by her father's movement, and when Alexis asks if she's okay, she does a brilliant job of removing all traces of fear from her voice as she assures her that she's just fine. _It looks worse than it is, really_, she adds, although her fingers keep their grip on her father's arm strong.

While Alexis makes tea for them all, because her father is awful at it and she knows that a cup of tea solves just about everything, she talks to her dad about her day at school, her grandmother's latest antics and anything else insignificant that they can both bring to mind. They're well in tune, the pair of them. They've had enough practice. When she stands a steaming mug in front of Kate she receives a grateful smile, and she feels glad that she could help in some way, even if all she did was create a diversion so Kate had some time to pull herself together.

Alexis starts to feel like she's intruding when her father turns his attention back to his girlfriend so she makes a relatively swift exit, and as she crawls into bed she finds that this time she can't be grateful that her father escaped yet another dangerous crime scene relatively unscathed.

Because somehow, she's started to think of Kate as something close to family, and she's not okay.

* * *

><p>The eleventh time Alexis sees them is the next morning. Kate's job involves a lot of very early morning and even late night starts, and the only other times their paths have crossed in the mornings have involved hurried breakfasts, usually stolen from her father's hand and replaced with quick kisses. It's a Saturday, but even that doesn't usually make a difference. Murderers don't tend to stick to a 9 - 5 schedule, she's learnt.<p>

This morning is different, though.

As she walks downstairs, Alexis can hear two voices. She can also tell that her father is fussing over his girlfriend, just like he does when _she _gets ill, and she tells them both just this in way of a greeting as she walks into the kitchen.

It surprises her to find that she's not jealous of Kate, like she has been of every other girlfriend who's managed to stay around long enough to make an appearance in the mornings.

That said, Kate still has a nasty looking cut above her eye, and in the morning light Alexis can see a smattering of bruises marring her pale skin, and a wrist that is painfully swollen, so there's probably not a lot to be jealous about at this moment in time.

It's clear from the look on Kate's face that she's not used to this kind of attention. It's also clear to Alexis that her father just doesn't care.

Kate looks uncomfortable but she doesn't actually look upset, so Alexis takes a seat at the counter and picks up part of the paper. She glances up in time to watch her father rest a heated pad underneath Kate's wrist, before standing behind her and just wrapping his arms around her tiny frame. He turns his attention to Alexis, with a cheerful _Morning, pumpkin,_ like it isn't even remotely strange that he has his arms around his battered and bruised girlfriend while they talk.

_Have you tasted dad's pancakes yet, Kate?_ she asks eventually, throwing a meaningful glance towards the stove. Her father sighs, presses a kiss to Kate's temple and loosens his hold on his girlfriend, asking her if she's hungry.

_I could eat_, she tells him quietly, her fingers fiddling absently with a button on the shirt she wears that Alexis knows is her father's. For his part he moves towards the stove and starts to pull down pans as Alexis assembles the ingredients on the counter.

_Don't fuss_, she tells him quietly as she passes him the eggs, and fixes him with a look until he nods in quiet resignation, before flashing her a grin.

_I _am_ the pancake master, _he announces proudly, frying pan brandished. _Are you sure you're ready for this? _ His humorous attempt seems to work, and Alexis notices that Kate brightens slightly, seemingly reassured by the familiarity of the scene in front of her and the relative solitude it offers her as she pulls a section of the paper towards her.

When she sees them hugging later that morning, after they've all consumed their share of his admittedly delicious pancakes and Kate's good arm is snaked as tightly around his neck as she can manage, Alexis knows for sure that she made the right decision.

Pancakes might not have solved everything, but they certainly seemed to have helped.

* * *

><p>The twelfth time Alexis sees them, she barely makes it into the kitchen before she bursts into tears. She knows she's interrupting a rare moment of calm between her father and his girlfriend from the way that Kate's head is resting against his shoulder and their fingers are tangled loosely on the counter, but her dad is up and moving and she needs him and as soon as she's in his arms, she just doesn't care.<p>

He knows her better than anyone, and he manages to coax the story of her break up out of her between sobs in the way that only he can. She loses track of Kate for a while, because all she wants is her dad. He's there for everything, and he _knows_ her.

When Alexis eventually manages to get a hold of her emotions he steps away a little, and she feels him wipe the tears from her cheeks before she's slamming back into his arms. She hears him chuckle, and somehow it instantly makes her feel better so she clings onto him a little tighter. When she remembers Kate's presence she feels a little silly, but there's no judgement in the detective's eyes as Alexis peeks out of her father's arms.

She's still sitting exactly where her father left her, head tilted slightly as she quietly watches the scene before her. Alexis steps out of her father's arms slightly, wiping her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her sweater. One look up at his face though, and she's off again.

He's her dad, he's not meant to look that upset.

He tries to tighten his hold on her again but Alexis pulls away, slumping over the counter as she cries, the look on his face one thing too much for her. After a moment, and just as her father launches into one of his speeches about how no boy is _ever_ good enough for his daughter, she feels hands settle gently against her shoulders. She knows the touch is too light to belong to her father. Kate's voice is calm and soothing when she speaks, and she rubs gentle circles on Alexis's shoulders while she persuades her father to go out for her favourite takeout. _Comfort food,_ she tells him seriously. _And you better come back with ice cream too. The good stuff._

He protests, and Alexis can hear the waver in his voice that she _knows_ is only ever there when it's her.

She feels a hand lift off one of her shoulders, and looks up just in time to see Kate reach out and wipe a tear from below her dad's eye with her thumb. It's an incredibly intimate gesture, and even through her tears, Alexis feels like she shouldn't be watching. Kate's fingers ease back against her shoulders a second later, and Alexis drops her head back against the cool counter and lets her take control, listening as she bickers gently with her father until she's shooing him out of the door, all the while keeping up the gentle rhythm of her fingers against Alexis's shoulders.

As the door closes behind her dad, the atmosphere feels visibly calmer, and as Alexis raises her head to look at Kate, her father's girlfriend simply smiles, gives her shoulders one more squeeze, then retreats back to her original seat.

Alexis can't quite put her finger on the point where her father and Kate became a team. But somehow, she seems to know _exactly_ what Alexis needs.

They sit in comfortable silence for what feels like hours, while Alexis unscrambles the thoughts and the anger and the just plain hurt in her head and Kate quietly reads the magazine in front of her. The takeout place is only round the corner though, and something tells Alexis that this might be her chance to get the honest answers that she suspects are a million miles away from the fairytales her writer father weaves for her.

_Does it always hurt this bad? _Alexis finds herself asking eventually, her voice soft and hoarse with tears. Kate thinks about it for a while, sighing as she flashes her a sympathetic smile and passes her a glass of water. _Do you want the honest answer?_ she questions eventually, fixing Alexis with a surprisingly understanding gaze.

_That's a yes, then, _Alexis guesses, sighing as she drops her head against her hands again.

_I think it's meant to hurt, _Kate continues eventually, surprising Alexis. _That means you're feeling something in the first place. Don't tell him, but your dad is right about one thing,_ she adds with a soft chuckle, _when he says that you will find someone who's worth risking the fact that you might feel like this for. I didn't think I would, _she finishes, and the implication in her words is clear to Alexis, listening raptly.

_How do you know?_ she can't help but ask, and she knows it's perfectly clear in her voice that she's not talking generally. When she responds, Kate's words are clear, and spoken without hesitation.

_In general? I don't know, Alexis. I just know that... the way I feel about your dad? _ _I've never felt that way about anyone before. _Neither of them have heard the front door open, but when Kate's eyes jolt up to the doorway, Alexis knows her father is there, and that this is probably a conversation they haven't had with each other yet.

And somehow, the way they stand looking at one another gives her just a little bit more faith in this thing they call love.

She goes into her father's room that night to say thank you to them both, and somehow she finds herself coming full circle, face to face with her father and the woman she now knows that he loves, fast asleep in one another's arms. There's one difference though.

The first time she saw them, asleep in this very same bed, it seemed like Kate was lying in her father's arms. This time though, the detective lies on her back whilst her father is sprawled diagonally across the bed on his stomach, head resting against Kate's stomach. Alexis can see that the fingers of her right hand are tangled in his hair, but that her father has her left hand in an almost death grip, even in his sleep.

This time, the roles are definitely reversed. And Alexis knows for sure.

They really are a team.

* * *

><p>Alexis sees the dedication in his latest book somewhere around the thirtieth time she sees them together, although she reflects that by this point, she's really stopped counting.<p>

She also sees the look on Kate Beckett's face when _she_ sees the dedication for the first time, and isn't blind to the agony on her father's face as he watches the woman he loves trace the words with her finger before flashing him one of the most brilliant smiles Alexis has ever seen.

She knows they're in it for the long haul by now, her father and Kate, and she knows that it's not the first book her father has dedicated to the detective. That said, Alexis also knows how incredible it feels to have a book dedicated to _her_ because he loves her, so she knows that this is probably one of the defining moments of the relationship she is watching develop.

This particular dedication is nothing less than subtle. Entirely befitting of the relationship it seeks to define. Expressed concisely in two words and six letters, Alexis thinks it probably means more to Kate than three words and eight letters ever will.

The dedication? It's simple.

_To Kate._

_tbc._


	2. Chapter 2

**To Kate: II**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**A/N: **First things first, I want to say a massive thank you for all the amazing reviews, comments and alerts I got for the first chapter. This seems like a really amazing fandom and I feel quite privileged to be writing in it. I was stunned by the response for this story, especially as it was the first thing I've ever written for the show and written after watching only the first season. So thank you to everyone, I really do appreciate it. On with the second chapter now, which I hope will do the first justice. I'm actually up to about episode eight of season two at present (and falling even more in love with the show as I go), but this was written after watching only the first season so again please put any inaccuracies with what you know down to that. We've seen Alexis's discovery of their relationship, so I thought it might be interesting to have a look at another perspective. You'll notice that some parts correspond to the first chapter – largely I've tried to match the numbers (eight, ten and eleven, if you're wondering) but four here also corresponds with five in the previous chapter (I thought I'd matched the numbers, but when I read back it turned out I hadn't). This is it for this particular story, but I have two more loosely related stories which will be coming your way soon and also a separate story that I'm writing currently. Enjoy, and I'd really love to hear what you think of chapter two.

* * *

><p><strong>To Kate<strong>

The first time Javier Esposito sees them together, his very first reaction is one of true joy. Not joy for them, exactly. Rather, joy because this time he's _really_ got one up on Kevin Ryan. Beckett and Castle could be the discovery of the century and he could ride on the back of this particular piece of gossip for a very long time. Become infamous as the one who provides the answer to the office poll, even.

Come to think of it, he's pretty sure he's got some money on _some_thing that will give him some sort of return, too.

There's something that stops him telling his partner straight away, though.

He's making coffee in the break room when he sees them, using Castle's fancy machine that has actually taken him far too long to learn how to use, although that's something else he hasn't told Ryan. As he raises the mug to his nose and inhales deeply, he glimpses movement in the hallway through the blinds, and his well-trained instincts have him alert instantly. Just in case.

He watches idly as two uniforms march their latest suspect down the hall, back towards the cell where he'll be spending the night. A minute passes, and he finds himself speculating about whether they've got the right man when Beckett steps out of the interrogation room, rakes a hand through her hair and slumps slightly against the wall. Esposito watched the first twenty minutes of her interrogation, and he knows it wasn't an easy task. From her reaction, he presumes that they've got the right man, but not a confession. He's about to turn away and give his boss what little privacy she can expect in the hallway, when Castle follows her out of the interrogation room, door banging carelessly behind him.

Esposito cracks a smile, because subtle is not the word to describe Richard Castle and that means the writer is probably about to clash with Beckett, big time. So like any good detective would, he leans against the counter and settles in to enjoy the show, because Beckett _really_ doesn't seem to be in the mood to put up with Castle's jokes.

When she glances up for long enough to shoot a quick, forced smile in the writer's direction though, something flashes in Esposito's brain. Rooted to the spot, he watches them exchange words he can't make out. Kate's heel starts to thump repeatedly against the wall, and Esposito has worked with her long enough to know that means she's really pissed. Her anger doesn't seem to be directed at Castle though, because she keeps talking. She starts to gesture wildly to make her point, and Esposito hopes Castle knows how to dodge.

He almost drops his mug though, when the writer glances both ways down the corridor, reaches out, catches her hands swiftly in his and lowers them to her side. Checking the corridor again, Castle leans forward and kisses Beckett's cheek quickly before stepping away completely, breaking all contact between them.

And Esposito can do nothing but stare, dumbfounded.

Because even though Kate Beckett is glaring at her pseudo-partner, her expression, her posture and just about everything else has softened dramatically as she listens to whatever Castle is telling her, arms firmly by her side and feet still.

And somehow, even though it's nothing conclusive and _nothing_ that couldn't be chalked down to the writer's over-zealous personality, Esposito knows.

They're not just friends anymore.

But he finds himself taking his coffee back to his desk and keeping his new discovery to himself, because somehow, it feels like it's not his story to tell.

* * *

><p>The second time Esposito sees them is a stolen moment towards the end of a poker game.<p>

He's started to notice in hindsight that she's been making excuses not to leave at the same time as everyone else at the end of the night, and he realises now that it's probably because she doesn't leave at all. She'll strike up a conversation with Martha, or Alexis if she's still awake. Esposito also realises that Beckett seems to get along a lot better with Castle's female counterparts than he's ever noticed before. If neither of the women are around when the game wraps up she'll excuse herself to the bathroom, telling him and Ryan not to bother waiting. It's subtle, and until he saw them at the precinct Esposito hadn't thought twice about it.

At their next poker night though, he finds himself watching them carefully and can't help but notice the way that Beckett seems just a little bit more comfortable in her seat than anyone else. They still flirt shamelessly over the table, but no one bats an eyelid because they're Castle and Beckett and that's just what they do.

There's an unusual game towards the end of the night though, where they both fold early. It comes down to a showdown of sorts between Ryan and the Captain, and while Esposito _is_ paying attention and hoping his partner pulls it off, he can't help a glance to his left at a flash of movement.

They're sitting next to one another, and the flash of movement he sees is the red of her sweater as Beckett reaches over to touch Castle's arm. It's a brief touch and her arm is back against the table before Esposito quite registers the movement, but a grin crosses Castle's face and he leans to his left just a little. She reaches forward to grab her beer, and in doing so speaks quietly to the writer. Esposito can see him fight back a laugh before answering her, his words too quiet for anyone else to hear.

It doesn't look like an overly practised movement, and to anyone else it would look like they were merely commenting on the game panning out before them, but there's something in the way that Beckett reached across to get his attention that convinces Esposito otherwise.

Add to that the fact that as they leave, sans Beckett, he spots a jumper thrown casually over the back of the couch that he knows without a doubt belongs to her, and to a detective you've got something resembling proof.

* * *

><p>The third time Esposito sees them they are arriving at a crime scene together. Which isn't odd, in itself. They've arrived together plenty of times before, generally because Esposito knows Beckett is worried about the trouble the writer gets into when left to his own devices. So there's nothing unusual about the way he lifts the crime scene tape for her to step under, although the smile of thanks he receives is pushing it slightly.<p>

More, it's the fact that it's a decidedly anti-social time for a crime scene coupled with the decidedly sheepish looks that they try incredibly hard to hide when he asks that suggest to him that maybe they were doing something with their intended night off that isn't quite appropriate to share with present company.

_Night in with the family,_ Castle offers eventually, a few seconds too late for it to be a truly instinctive answer. Really, lying to a detective? Not the way to go. _I'm sure Detective Beckett was doing something _far_ more interesting with her night off though, _he continues, and Esposito has to remind himself not to laugh.

_They call it a private life for a reason Castle, remember,_ she shoots back smoothly, and the writer laughs loudly in response. A little too loudly, Esposito thinks. Almost like they'd practised the little interaction. Ryan joins them at this point, whining about the fact that he was right in the middle of dinner, and as they move over to Lanie it's all business again.

Esposito doesn't miss the subtle touch of Castle's hand on her back when the writer thinks no one is looking, though. Or the hint of a smile that slips across Beckett's face in response. There's been something distinctly different about the interaction between the pair at recent scenes, he's started to notice. They've always finished one another's sentences and stories, but the awkwardness and tension that always seemed to linger have dispersed.

One might say they had been resolved, Esposito muses for a second, before shaking his head and blaming the anti-social hour once again for the fact that he sounds a little bit too much like a girl.

The scene they are faced is distinctly Beckett-flavoured, and within the space of five minutes Esposito can tell that both Beckett and Castle have lost any lingering resentment over the interruption of... whatever they were doing. He doesn't really want to think about it, if he's perfectly honest.

He gets enough disturbing mental images from the realities of their job. He has no desire to add any more.

He thinks he's happy for them, though.

* * *

><p>The fourth time Esposito sees them is also the first time he actually finds them together. He also sees a softer side to Kate Beckett.<p>

The case they're working is one of the worst he's seen in a long while, and as the crime scene unfolds it gets worse and worse. He can see that Castle is having a hard time, disadvantaged as he is without their years of training. Were it a 'normal' crime scene, or at least as normal as you could get when the words crime scene were involved, he knows that they would probably all be ribbing the author, just as they normally do.

He's sticking unnaturally close to Beckett though, so Esposito and Ryan don't get the chance. Not that they would, in a situation like this. Knowing what he thinks he knows though, Esposito almost finds himself expecting Beckett to mock the writer. Just to maintain the status quo.

She doesn't.

Instead, there's a quiet acceptance in her voice as she tells him to go outside and take a moment. He doesn't put up an argument, and it's less than a minute before Beckett quietly excuses herself and heads in exactly the same direction.

As he watches her go, Esposito thinks that he might be in the middle of watching them fall in love.

When he steps outside to put something in the car ten minutes later, they're both sitting on the sidewalk in the dark, knees pulled up awkwardly like a couple of overgrown schoolchildren. They're sitting so close that her shoulder is resting against his, but they're not touching in any way that might suggest there's anything more than friendship present. He has to walk behind them to get to his car, and as he does he hears something he's never heard before.

_Rick, _Beckett calls softly, and Esposito watches as he turns his head towards her instantly. He's never heard her call him anything other than Castle, and from the reaction he sees he suspects the author himself might not have at work, either.

_I'm fine, Becks_, he tells her quietly, answering the question she hasn't yet asked. Esposito has heard the nickname more and more often recently, and he now suspects it's a subtle reference to the fact that he too calls her something entirely different when they're at home. _Really_, he adds, before they sit in silence for a while.

_You don't have to go back in there_, she tells him eventually, and her voice is lower and more affectionate than Esposito has ever heard. _I can make an excuse_.

_I want to,_ he tells her earnestly. There's a pause, before he continues. _I just... might need a hug later._

_You got it_, she promises, and Esposito can hear sincerity radiating from her voice. She moves then, standing up and brushing the dirt from her pants before holding a hand out. _Ready to go back, Castle?_ she asks, voice the picture of professionalism as she flashes him what Esposito can only describe as a grin as he takes her hand and stands up.

_Ready, Detective_, he answers, dropping her hand after little more than a moment. Esposito gives them a friendly wave as he moves from the car back towards the crime scene, and Beckett questions him about the evidence he's just stowed as they all walk upstairs.

The case only gets more horrific from there on in, and Castle is barely keeping it together by the time mid-morning rolls around. He's slumped in the chair next to Kate's desk, paler than Esposito's ever seen him, when Kate switches off her computer, orders him and Ryan to go home, pushes her chair back and says to the writer _I'm driving you home. _

_You look like you can barely stand, Castle,_ she tells him when he has nothing to say in response, her voice quiet and kind. _Let alone drive. No arguments._

No one else even bats an eyelid at the conversation or even at Castle's quiet acceptance, because Beckett's tone is not one to argue with. As he turns in his seat and watches them retreat down the corridor together though, Esposito is glad that they've both found someone to go home with.

* * *

><p>The fifth and sixth time Esposito sees them, they're bickering over a case like normal, if you take normal to include flirting over a dead body. Which, with them, he thinks you kind of have to.<p>

But it's the seventh time he sees them that he realises he's paying _far_ too much attention.

They're driving out to question a potential witness, he, Castle and Beckett. Ryan is lying on a beach somewhere with his girlfriend because out of the three of them he's the one most willing to take vacation days, so they take one car. Beckett is driving, despite Esposito's protests to the contrary, and while he was arguing his case Castle had calmly settled himself in the passenger seat.

The fact that Beckett is driving also means that they're listening to Beckett's choice of music. And that's the reason Esposito was _really_ arguing, because everyone knows that he thinks Beckett's choice of music is, quite frankly, shocking, and their journey is considerably less than short. Relegated to the backseat he settles for complaining, well aware of the fact that he sounds like a spoilt brat but knowing it will piss her off even more.

He doesn't get that many chances to do that to Beckett, unlike a certain writer, so he makes full use of them when they do arise.

She's glaring at him through the rear view mirror, and he knows he's about to be on the wrong side of one of her cutting comments when he realises something.

Normally, he's not the only one complaining about her music. Yet glancing to his right, he finds Richard Castle sitting calmly in the passenger seat, tapping his fingers against the window in time with the music that he mocked mercilessly the first time he heard it.

And suddenly Esposito realises. They must be spending far more time together than even he realises for the writer to have grown to tolerate music _this_ bad.

* * *

><p>The eighth time Esposito sees them, it's very, <em>very<em> public.

They're subtle at first. Of course they are, it _is_ Beckett.

They're all congregating in a trendy uptown bar to celebrate Ryan's birthday. His girlfriend selected the venue, and it's a million miles away from the bars the detectives tend to favour when they're in need of some strong liquor after a tough case. The place is upscale and sleek, and exactly the type of bar where Esposito expects to find Richard Castle looking quite at home. What surprises him is how Beckett does too, although he suspects that might be due to the company more than the location.

They're both already there when Esposito arrives, a fact which isn't lost on him, sitting at the bar together with drinks in hand. Beckett is facing out towards the room, leaning against the bar and Esposito watches as she surveys the crowd with a hint of caution, detective mode seeming to cling on. He finds it hard to switch off too, so he doesn't blame her. She crosses her legs casually as her eyes continue to scan the room, and Esposito can't help but notice that she definitely doesn't _look_ like a detective tonight. He's only human after all, and it's no secret that his boss is kinda hot. She's wearing a green dress that stops just above her knees and clings to everything, and heels that make her legs go on forever.

Something that is clearly not lost on Richard Castle, either. Sitting beside her, the writer has one arm resting on the bar and rather than survey the room as she does, his eyes are fixed firmly on the detective at his side. He leans forward to whisper something against her ear, and Esposito has to laugh as Beckett smacks him swiftly on the arm without even a glance in his direction. She's smiling though, and a few seconds later they both start to laugh as she finally fixes her gaze on his.

If they weren't so cute it'd be sickening, Esposito thinks.

Their friends and colleagues have started to arrive, and although he speaks to both Castle and Beckett regularly during the evening, Esposito _has_ to focus all his efforts on mocking his partner on his less than manly choice of venue.

It turns out though, that Kate Beckett cannot hold her cocktails. When he finally spots them later in the evening, once most of their mere acquaintances have left and there are few outside their close-knit team left, she's honest-to-God sitting in the writer's lap, arm hooked casually around his neck, laughing. No, giggling.

And Beckett? Does _not_ giggle.

Suddenly, Esposito feels a shove against his arm. Turning to his left, he encounters the diminutive figure of Lanie Parish, glowering at him. _Do not make a big deal out of this,_ she tells him, enunciating her words carefully despite the brightly coloured drink in her hand.

_You know? _Esposito asks, surprised.

_Of course I know, Espo,_ she shoots back, rolling her eyes. _When are you boys gonna figure out that I know everything? _Lanie pauses, waving her drink towards the couple for emphasis. _But I also know that, aside from being drunk, somehow that girl is out of her mind happy with writer boy, so if you screw this up for her, I'll kill you._

_Are we talking about our star-crossed lovers? _Ryan joins them now, throwing an arm around both their shoulders and wedging himself in between them. Esposito snorts with laughter.

_Very Shakespeare of you,_ he taunts, unable to resist the open opportunity._ Doing wonders for the whole macho cop vibe you got going on. _Ryan launches for him, and as Esposito fends off his partner's drunken blows, he forgets again about the couple in front of them.

As they're leaving though, Esposito hears Castle laughing as he tells Beckett that he's taking her home_._ She's wearing his jacket, having complained about the cold the second they stepped out of the doors, and she simply giggles and leans against the writer in response.

Esposito wonders if they'll deny it in the morning.

* * *

><p>The ninth time Esposito sees them together isn't the morning after, or even the day after. Somehow, dead bodies always seem to get in the way. They've been working non-stop on a case for almost three days, and there's been precious little time for anything other than business.<p>

That's not to say that Beckett and Castle haven't flirted over a host of inopportune moments, but really they've been doing that since day one so Esposito's not counting those moments, disturbing as they may be.

It's late afternoon on the third day when they finally catch a break in their case. He and Ryan returned from lunch to an animated writer and a quietly satisfied detective, and they were handed a warrant to pick up their new suspect without even taking their seats. As Beckett and Castle joined them in the elevator, Ryan had sarcastically enquired whether they needed mommy and daddy to babysit them on this particular pick up.

His partner bolts out of the elevator nursing a twisted earlobe courtesy of Beckett as soon as the doors open, but Esposito sticks around long enough to notice the way Castle bumps his shoulder against hers as he grins, presumably in approval of the fact that her tried and tested torture technique has been aimed against someone other than him, for once.

_We're going to get lunch, _Beckett offers at the door, striding off in the direction of their favourite diner without waiting for an answer or the writer. After a moment of indecision, Castle grins widely and darts off after her with a carelessly shouted goodbye that makes Esposito turn just in time to spot the way that that the writer catches Beckett's hand just as they turn the corner.

_Think they'll ever actually tell us? _Ryan asks from his side, alerting Esposito to the fact that he's not the only one watching. He shakes his head as they move towards their car.

He doubts it. Big declarations aren't Beckett's style and these days, Castle seems far more willing to stick to her rules.

Stay in the car excluded, of course.

* * *

><p>The tenth time Esposito sees them, he's never seen panic like the panic that he sees on Richard Castle's face.<p>

The case they're working has spiralled violently out of control, and as they arrive at a new crime scene accompanied by vice it turns just plain violent. As they walk out of the building once the worst is over, Esposito turns to look at Ryan. He's sporting what will turn out to be a spectacular black eye, but that's the extent of their injuries. The sheer fury in his eyes though, Esposito knows is mirrored in his own.

It always is, when it comes to Beckett.

They work in what's considered a somewhat odd tripartite by the rest of the precinct, he, Ryan and Beckett, but Esposito knows it _works,_ and most days he considers Beckett his partner no less than Ryan. Which means they would protect her to the end.

Except sometimes, they can't.

He curses in Spanish as they prepare themselves to round the corner, and Ryan just shakes his head.

Beckett is leaning awkwardly against the hood of her vehicle as they stride over, one arm cradled against her body. Blood is streaming down her cheek from a nasty looking gash dangerously close to her eye and seeping into her shirt. She's paler than Esposito has ever seen her, and he knows he's seen her at her very worst. He also knows that the real injuries she's just endured probably can't actually be seen.

What says the most though, is the fact that she is not even trying to fend off the man in front of her as he invades her personal space in a way Esposito has never seen before.

He's a man of words, Richard Castle. Verbose and eloquent, even on a bad day and especially when he's angry. As they approach the couple though, all Esposito can hear is a string of swear words falling from his lips and he realises that when it comes to Kate Beckett, fear can render Richard Castle wordless.

Panic and concern are radiating off him in equal measures, and Esposito finds himself reminded yet again that Castle is just a civilian. They all forget, the more he's around, and treat him like a cop. This is the first time he's been exposed to the worst of the violent side of their jobs though, and Esposito realises that right now, Richard Castle is nothing more than a man who's witnessed too much of his girlfriend getting, for want of a better phrase, a beating.

Esposito shares a look of understanding with his partner, before waving Lanie over to them. There's more than one body, but to hell with that. Their own come first.

_Beckett_, he and Ryan greet as one, coming to a halt at her side. She looks up instantly, and an understanding passes between the three detectives even though they can see that she's dangerously close to losing it. They don't do the touchy feely thing. _We got this one_, Ryan continues, arm sweeping to indicate the scene behind them.

_Thanks boys,_ she manages quietly, and when Esposito looks closer he can see her shaking. He had been half expecting her to fight them. She has done in the past, and it's part and parcel of the job, much as they hate it, that she's no stranger to being on the wrong side of an aggressive suspect.

He doesn't think he's seen it this bad in a long time, though.

_Girl, you know I'm rusty at practising medicine on the living,_ Lanie chides, stepping easily between the writer and her best friend and leaving no room for argument. Esposito watches Castle let out another curse as he's forced to break contact with Beckett, and start to pace. He can see that the writer's reaction is starting to make Beckett herself panic and so he steps in, gripping the writer by the arm and steering him away, slightly.

_You need to calm down, man_, he tells him firmly, hating himself even as he says it as Castle turns a wild, panicked gaze on him. _You need to calm down so that she can,_ he adds. Something seems to lodge in Castle's brain though, because he eventually sucks in a deep breath.

Esposito knows better than to offer platitudes to the writer and so they simply stand quietly, Ryan flanking him on Castle's other side. Lanie has positioned herself between Beckett and the men, and Esposito knows it's on purpose. There's a fierce bond between the two women, and Beckett looks decidedly calmer when Lanie steps back and announces that her work is done.

_Let her make the next move,_ Esposito warns Castle quietly, a restraining hand on his arm even as they close the gap separating them from the two women. He has a feeling he might never be forgiven for this particular night, but he hasn't worked with Beckett for years and learnt nothing.

It's a question of control, and he suspects she desperately needs some.

_Rick_, he hears her speak eventually, her voice shaking almost violently despite her calmer appearance. He and Ryan step back at her use of the writer's first name, together in their desire to give their boss some privacy. They're close enough to hear her ask Castle for a hug though, and it damn near breaks Esposito's heart to hear the pain in her voice because Kate Beckett? Doesn't _do_ vulnerable. He can't begin to imagine what's going through the writer's head, but Esposito watches as his gaze softens instantly at the question and he draws Beckett easily into his arms, like he's done it a thousand times before.

Like the fact that she's never sounded vulnerable like this before just doesn't matter.

Her fingers fist the back of his shirt tightly, and Esposito suspects that she might be crying when one of Castle's hands slides into her hair.

There's blood on the Castle's shirt too when he finally releases her, but their embrace seems to have worked wonders for them both. Beckett's eyes are calmer, if unavoidably red rimmed, and Castle's attention is solely focused on giving the woman in front of him as much comfort as possible. They work, with an ease Esposito hasn't noticed before.

He's heard Kate Beckett say one and done before.

He just didn't know she had found it.

* * *

><p>The eleventh time Esposito sees them, Beckett is stepping out of an interrogation room that contains a man charged not only with murder, but also with assaulting two police officers. One of whom happens to be herself.<p>

She's also stepping out of the interrogation room and straight into Richard Castle's arms.

The writer catches her easily, arms snaking around her injured body with an ease that can only come from the sort of intimate relationship Esposito now knows that they share. Her arm has been bandaged up expertly, and Esposito suspects that the writer had something to do with her visiting a doctor at all. She has her good arm wrapped around Castle as if to steady herself, but Esposito can tell that she's shaking.

He's seen the shaking happen after a tough interrogation before, and has always attributed it to adrenaline. This time though, Esposito thinks it might be a strange combination of anger and fear and the fact that there's someone there to hold her.

Whatever Castle is saying to her as they stand there is little more than a bare, unintelligible murmur by the time it reaches Esposito's ears, but it seems to be working. There's a smile on the corner of his lips as he speaks, and Beckett shifts almost imperceptibly closer. The writer tilts his head a little, lips closer to her ear as he continues speaking quietly.

When it becomes clear that she needs more than a moment in Castle's arms, Esposito steps forward with his partner and they form a subconscious barrier between the couple and the rest of the precinct. Esposito's meets the writer's eyes over Beckett's head and they both nod slightly, before Esposito averts his gaze and allows them the privacy they clearly want.

He's never seen Beckett need someone before, but he's glad the first time is Castle.

The next thing Esposito notices is the door to the Captain's office opening. The team turn as one, and Montgomery simply sweeps an arm across his doorway. Castle is the first to move with his arm staying firmly on Beckett's back, and Esposito flanks them with Ryan as they head across the corridor. By the time the door closes behind them Beckett is free from Castle's arms, easing herself into a chair as the writer hovers nearby.

He drops a gentle hand against her shoulder when Montgomery orders nothing more than _the rest of the week, Beckett._ Esposito watches carefully, but Beckett doesn't even flinch. She drops her head slightly, but nods.

Esposito's never seen her take an order that way before, but before he can consider it further, their Captain is opening his office door again and shepherding he and Ryan outside. _Take your time,_ he tells Beckett.

It's not until the door closes behind them and they're out in the hallway once again that Esposito realises the Captain has left Richard Castle in there with her.

Montgomery's eyes give nothing away, but Esposito knows that none of them can deny the partnership developing before their eyes.

* * *

><p>The twelfth time Esposito sees them, he is totally unsurprised to find Beckett answering the door to Richard Castle's loft, battered and bruised and with more than one part of her body still bandaged. It has only been 48 hours since the crime scene that went wrong, and there was no secret surrounding the fact that she had left the Precinct with Castle the previous day. What he is surprised by is the fact that she seems quiet and content, and answers the door with a smile on her face.<p>

As he and Ryan step inside, they share a silent conversation. The topic of Beckett's relationship with the writer has yet to be spoken about explicitly, but she's barefoot and wearing a large hooded sweater that's undeniably his, so they both know she probably couldn't deny it, even if she wanted to.

_He knows what we'll do if he hurts you, right? _Esposito asks eventually, turning his attention back to Beckett as she fixes them with a slightly amused gaze.

_Yeah, I think he's got that,_ she assures them, and even though she laughs Esposito knows that they all know that there's truth in his words. When Castle walks out of his office and asks what's so funny, they laugh collectively at the hurt look on his face and assure him it's nothing. The writer's hand falls against Beckett's back as he reaches them, pout in full force, and she tilts her head up slightly to look at him.

_You joining us?_ Castle asks her, gesturing to the poker table. She shakes her head, and Esposito follows their gaze to find Alexis sprawled across one of the couches. She waves a hand in greeting before turning back to the array of DVD's in front of her.

Esposito sees the flash of indecision on Castle's face as his gaze flits between the occupants of his loft, and makes a decision. _Make it something decent, and we could do movie night, _he offers. When Castle had called earlier to invite them for an impromptu poker night, he and Ryan hadn't really said yes out of a desire to play poker. They had said yes to check on Beckett. Movie or poker, it didn't really matter.

_You're more of a girl than Beckett is, Espo, so that rules you out of the decision making,_ Ryan shoots back smoothly, picking up on Esposito's plan without needing to be told as they head into the living room and start to bicker easily with the younger Castle about the best film to watch.

When he turns round to find Beckett standing quietly in the circle of Castle's arms, exactly where they left them, he knows they've made the right choice.

Less than thirty minutes later, he's greeted with a sight that reinforces that even further. Beckett is fast asleep, resting against Castle's shoulder. The younger Castle in turn is also close to sleep, her head resting against Beckett's legs as she continues to lie along the length of the couch.

And suddenly Esposito realises. He's not just watching two people fall in love.

He's watching the creation of a somewhat unconventional family.

* * *

><p>Esposito sees the dedication in Castle's latest book somewhere around the twentieth time he sees anything resembling a relationship between the pair. After their movie night they came to a collective, unspoken agreement that the relationship would only be spoken about outside of work.<p>

Poker nights, newly introduced movie nights and drinks after work were fair game, and to give them credit the pair have put up with a remarkable amount of ribbing. At work though, the four were the picture of professionalism and still the homicide team to beat.

It's in the middle of the bullpen however that the writer proudly hands both Esposito and Ryan advanced, signed copies of the book, and Esposito doesn't miss the fact that Beckett determinedly refuses to meet either of their eyes when they automatically turn to the dedication page.

Castle's gaze is on Beckett the whole time though, and even though she doesn't have a copy of the book to hand, Esposito suspects that she probably already knows this particular bit by heart.

The dedication? It's simple.

_To Kate._

_fin._


End file.
